Corte, who was kneading bread, took a seat on a box by the kitchen door.
"Say! don't you think it would be a good thing for this country if Uncle Sam was really to come over and take it?"
"I hope not. What's the matter with it as it is?"
"Too much police—too much law and order; you can never have a real live mining-camp in Canada."
"That was a pretty good dance you had Friday night."
"Yes, it was all right; but what a time we would have had if we had had lots of hootch! But say! that was a good one when the squaw told the other 'King George man' he had not been introduced to her!"
Frank chuckled; and then, as the prospect of an international argument did not seem good, went on another tack.
"Do you believe there is a God?"
A flood of memories surged through Berwick's brain.
He glanced at the dark sinister features of the man awaiting his reply and then looked at the sunlight. Should he give such an answer in such a tone as would discourage further argument? No—the question was too serious. He might not have felt called upon at one time to divulge his belief, which in the past had been a burden of much questioning; but here it was asked, perhaps in levity, by one who evidently could not fully believe. He felt called upon to answer,